


For the One Who Won't Shut UP

by JadeElite



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fourth Wall Breaking, Why?, narration fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/JadeElite
Summary: I didn't have an interest in this at first... I absolutely loved Doom Patrol, and the character of Mr.Nobody was absolutely hilarious and I loved it all, but I didn't have my usual obsession/attraction that I get when I feel compelled to write fanfiction for a show. The out of nowhere I had this random almost wet dream that flipped between it being with Eric Morden or his actor but it was hazy and weird which is what mostly happens when my brain attempts to have a wet dream. Didn't think about it for a few days, then a week later I started getting my pre-period horney and when I trie to focus on something I'm used to instead this...voice in my head said 'write me' and I said who the fuck are you. and it flashed me back to that dream and I was like 'NO' 'WHY' long story short this character came to being in my head and is forcing me to write her, have fun.PS anything written **like this** is implied Mr.Nobdy narration, anything written //like this// is implied to be somebody special's narration.
Relationships: Eric Morden/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	For the One Who Won't Shut UP

Erin adjusts her skirt as she took her seat in conference hall 7b. She checks her schedule one more time; [3:30 pm Best of the Worst: Legendary Members of the BOE.]; then checks her watch [3:12 pm].  
“That’s a brilliant looking costume,” a boy with styrophome cyborg parts half glued to his head sits beside her. “But uh- who are you supposed to be?”  
The woman glances at him. “Oh, …nobody.”  
He snorts, as she expected. “You mean Mr. Nobody?” His eyes go up and down. “Last I checked he doesn’t wear a dress.”  
“I took some creative liberties,” Erin admires her hands, she spent hours assembling this, not just sewing it, but finding and choosing the perfect fabrics that would make her look possible.  
The pitches of blacks, so dark the eye gets… confused when looking at it, struggling to accept that there’s something there. Transparency is something a costume can’t manage without technology she doesn’t have access to, but shimmery flashy reflective can be a fun alternative. The rest is just skin, all-natural, perfect, Erin.  
“I’m Miss. Nobody.” She knows her work will go unappreciated; it always does, men are like that.  
“Ah, so you’re one of those crazy ‘gender-benders’ who think they can make weird fantasy shit out of people,” the guy scoffs.  
As she suspected [“That’s a brilliant looking costume.”] was a vehicle to mansplain his heart out about something that doesn’t concern him.  
“He doesn’t even do clothes, but you’re wearing a skirt and… what’s with the puffy sleeves.” He rolls his eyes. “People like you are ruining good conventions.”  
Erin laughs, folding one leg over the other, sitting up as straight as she can. “We live in a world were men can walk through walls, fly, manipulate reality on scales the likes of which regular humans can’t comprehend…” she is unruffled, merely indulging herself to kill time. “But, I’m not allowed to attend a convention dressed as I please without being harassed by a white guy dressed as a black superhero. One who hasn’t showered in nine and a half days because he thinks his ‘man-stink’ is attractive to women and believes that in a few more hours, he will reach peak masculinity. At which point, all the women in this convention hall will be standing in line to suck his cock, because that’s how far up his ass he is.”  
**There’s no need to describe the look on his pathetic face; we all know it. Some of us wish we could make men like him make it more. The critical point is that he’s finally shut up.  
And that our dear Erin didn’t need the approval of convention fuckboys. She knew without reassurance from anybody, the ultimate indisputable fact that she is absolutely stunning**  
“You should probably find another seat.” She smiles with just the perfect tint of venom in her eyes. “I think somebody much more interesting would like that spot.”  
“What..does- what..”  
“Is this seat taken?” Somebody far more interesting asks. Mr. Nobody, rather an outstanding Mr. Nobody cosplayer locks eyes with Erin.  
She looks him over, admires his handiwork, it’s even more impressive than her own. “No, it’s not.”  
The ‘cyborg’ attempts to stammer out something, but he has nothing of value to say.  
*So he gets up, and he leaves*  
“That’s hand-done, right?” the man, who sits in the nicely warmed seat, has produced an outfit that confuses the eye, she can’t quite figure out what material he would have used to get his effect. “Your stitchwork is exquisite.”  
Erin smiles shyly. “Yeah… it is.”  
“How long did you…” The man is cut-off by the lights of the room dimming; the panel is beginning.  
“Let’s talk later…” she whispers, turning towards the front.  
//but her eyes never leave Mr. Nobody.//


End file.
